Duncan Quagmire
by jonnyboy17
Summary: Last chapter coming in a week or two, depending on reviews. Sacrifices will have to be made. Lives will have to be lost. Friends will become enemies. Keep reading to find out the answers to these secrets.
1. How it all started

It was eleven thirty. Mr. Remora's class was the boringest class on earth. All he did was eat bananas while he told completely useless stories.

I just copied them into my commonplace book. It was jammed with information on V.F.D.-and Remora's stories.

My sister, Isadora, is in Mrs. Bass's class.

All Mrs. Bass does is force her class to measure things. We're triplets. Our mansion burned down a while back, taking our parents and our brother, Quigley.

Finally it got to be lunchtime. We ran to the cafeteria. Prufrock's cafeteria food is gigantic. I think it's because they don't want us coming back for seconds.

Isadora and I sat down at a solitary table. We cut our huge lasagna into bites big enough to fit into our mouths. Suddenly, everyone in the cafeteria started banging their silverware on the tables and yelled, "Cakesniffing orphans in the Orphan Shack!"

Ugh. Don't remind me. Isadora and I had to live there for three semesters. There was dripping fungus on the ceiling and there were crabs everywhere. Worst of all, all we had to sleep on were bales of hay.

"Look!" Isadora said, pointing to the middle of the cafeteria. Three kids were standing, holding their trays, and looking nervous. There was a girl who looked about a year older than me. We Quagmire triplets are thirteen, so she was probably about fourteen. There was a boy, who was probably twelve. And there was a baby.

I knew Carmelita Spats had started it. She always called Isadora and I "cakesniffers" and orphans. "QUIET!" I hollered, and everyone instantly stopped yelling and banging their silverware.

Everyone was staring at me, including the three kids. I stood up and walked to Carmelita's table.

"Why don't you just leave them alone, Carmelita?!" I said fiercely. "Just because they're not ugly like you doesn't mean you should treat them like dirt!"

Everyone oohed. Carmelita turned red, and said, "Shut up, cakesniffer! This situation has nothing to do with you."

"The situation's gonna have lasagna all over her if she doesn't back off!" I told her. Angrily, she sat back down, and I motioned for the kids to follow me.

"Thank you," said the girl. "Very much," added the boy. "She's a very complicated person, and it was getting pretty rocky back there."

"Don't mention it," I told them. "She does that to us all the time. Isadora had her eyes hooked on the boy.

The boy wore a black suit, black shorts, black glasses, and black shoes. The girl wore a yellow blouse, black shoes, and a ribbon in her hair. They all had black hair. Except for the baby, who had very sharp teeth and wore a white gown.

The girl was Violet Baudelaire, the boy was Klaus, and the baby was Sunny.

"So what led you to Prufrock?" I asked. "Well," said Violet, "Our home burnt down, killing our parents, we've been through a number of terrible places, and an evil villain named Count Olaf is bent on finding us, stealing our family fortune, and killing us."

I never gave the name Count Olaf much thought, but it seemed familiar, and I knew he had something to do with V.F.D.


	2. Return to the Orphans Shack

It was terrible. It was disgusting. And it was scary. It was the return to the Orphan Shack!

After lunch we all went back to the Orphans Shack. Ugh. The fungus was dripping like mad; the bales of hay were rough and lumpy. And there were even more crabs.

We sat down on a pile of hay and talked. "What do we do?" Violet asked. "Sunny has to make one thousand homemade staples and we have tests on Mr. Remora's stories and Mrs. Bass's measurements."

"Well," Isadora said, "Maybe Duncan and I could help." "Yeah," I said. "First, let's get started on the staples."

Klaus said, "I wonder how we could make one thousand homemade staples." "Well, what about the crabs?" I asked. "We could hold something out that would attract them, and right before they snap, we replace it with one of those metal pieces."

"Smarmin!" Sunny shrieked, which Klaus translated to be, "Great idea, Duncan!" I smiled.

"What could attract crabs so much that they come after it?" Isadora asked. "Well," Violet said, "It could like a finger or toe or something like that."

"How about a potato?" Klaus asked. "Potatoes do look like toes, kind of." "Good idea, Klaus!" Isadora said.

So we walked back to the cafeteria. Every worker was in the kitchen, cleaning up. We saw a bag of potatoes lying nearby, but the workers were around.

Isadora and I started running around with scissors. The lunch workers hollered and ran after us. Meanwhile, the Baudelaires sneakily got the bag and left.

When we came back, crabs were everywhere, and we had to be careful not to step on them.

So we started holding out potatoes and switching them with metal pieces right before they snapped. It was pretty tiring, but we finished.

"Ow!" Violet exclaimed, after a crab snapped at her and scurried away. "When the crabs aren't helping us, they can be pretty annoying."

"Well, if there was some way to scare them away," Klaus said, "they wouldn't be around as much."

"There are a lot of metal scraps left. Maybe if we attached them to the bottoms of our shoes, when we walked around, it would make loud noises. That might scare them away," Violet suggested.

I smiled. Violet was great at inventing.

So we got to work, pasting the metal chunks to their shoes. It really made a lot of noise.

"We still have tests tonight," Klaus said. "I copied down the measurements for all the objects we measured, Klaus," Isadora said. "Really? Thank you so much!" Klaus said as they walked to a different hay bale.

"I copied down all of Remora's stories, Violet," I said. "Oh, thank you, Duncan!" Violet exclaimed. I blushed a little as we sat down.

The Baudelaires studied their heads to death, and then they asked us to quiz them. They did great.

"Sprinorphan," Sunny said, which Violet and Klaus translated to be, "We still have S.O.R.E. again tonight."

We were quiet a while, until I got a sudden brain-blast.

"Hey, what if we ran laps for you?" I suggested. Violet and Klaus looked at me, Sunny stared at the floor.

"But he'd recognize you," Klaus said. "Well, not really," I said.

"If I took your glasses, Klaus, I'd look kind of like you. And if Isadora took Violet's hair ribbon, she'd kind of look like Violet."

"But you're not wearing the same clothes as us," Violet said.

"We could meet him out there early," Isadora said. "It should be pretty dark.

"What about Sunny?" Klaus asked. "There's only two of you and three of us."

"If we could find something about her size, like a bag of flour, we would be okay. We could tie her ribbon to the handles and draw a face on the front."

"But how would it get around the circle?" Klaus asked.

Violet walked over to me and moved her hand around my shirt until she came to a loose thread. She pulled it all the way out and tied one end to my pants, and the other to the handles.

"Capturisk," Sunny said, and Violet translated it to be, "This is a very risky plan."

"It is," I admitted, "but we can't let Count Olaf catch you."

We wished the Baudelaires good luck on their tests and promised that nothing would happen, but something happened, and not something good.

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Well, there it is. Thanks to everyone who submitted a review. Keep them coming. Keep in mind I won't always update on weekends, but I almost always will update on weekends.


	3. Being kidnapped

As Isadora, Violet, Klaus, Sunny, and I ran outside to try to escape Count Olaf, I talked.

"Listen, Isadora and I found out something important about Count Olaf when we were researching him."

"It's very important," Isadora added.

"Listen, if anything goes wrong-" I started.

"Nothing will," said Klaus, as Isadora and I tossed the Baudelaires our commonplace books.

"Look in the notebooks! V.F.D.!" I shouted, as two powder-faced women who worked for Olaf grabbed me and Isadora and headed for a long black car.

"What?" Klaus hollered.

"V.F.D.!" I screamed. One of the powder-faced women put her hand over my mouth, and tossed me and Isadora inside the car.

We slammed against the opposite-sided door. One powder-faced woman shut the door. All the associates piled in and Count Olaf tore off his disguise, flung open the driver's side door, shut it, and started to drive away.

"No!" The Baudelaires screamed. Isadora and I banged on the windows. Vice Principal Nero, the Baudelaires, and some man in a suit and top hat who stopped every three seconds to cough tried to chase after the car. Eventually, they stopped.

"Baudelaires!" Isadora and I screamed. "Shut up, Quagmires!" Count Olaf roared. We turned around.

Isadora and I got a good look at who was riding with us.

Count Olaf was driving, one powder-faced woman was in the passenger seat, an obese person who looked like neither a man or a woman took up ninety percent of the back-seat space, sitting beside him was a bald man with a pretty long nose, and Isadora and I were scrunched up between a man with hooks instead of hands and another powder-faced woman.

"What are you looking at?" growled the hook-handed man. The bald man with the long nose gave me a scary look. The overweight creature of indeterminable gender was really freaking me out.

The powder-faced woman who sat beside me just gave me a quick scan, and then looked out the window.

We passed a bank, a park, a bus, and a few gas stations. I felt like I was having all the air squeezed out of me.

Count Olaf whispered something to the powder-faced woman beside him. She nodded and tossed something back to us.

Our commonplace books. He was obviously doing this to make sure we knew about V.F.D. before he took us someplace else.

I saw a billboard for the Last Chance General Store. That was at least a thousand miles away.

I remembered on a family vacation we got stuck in the middle of nowhere. My mom was feeling very sick. We noticed the Last Chance General Store.

We went in and asked if there was a hospital nearby. The shopkeeper, Milt, told us that Heimlich Hospital was about five miles away.

We got there just in time. I remember how glad our mom was that we came across the Last Chance General Store.

Count Olaf's creepy voice snapped me back to reality.

"All right, everybody out," he said grumpily.

Isadora and I stepped out and stared at the building. It was a very tall and very wide building, at least thirty stories high.

"Quit dawdling, orphans!" the bald man with the long nose snapped. He hurried us inside.

Unfortunately, the elevator wouldn't work. Count Olaf grumbled about how Esme Squalor told him that elevators were out, the word for "not popular." Dark was also in, and light was out, which explained why it was so hard to see.

So we had to walk up about thirty stories of stairs, which I guessed was three hundred feet. I couldn't really remember, nor care about the customary system.

Isadora and I were panting for breath by the time we were almost halfway to the top. Occasionally Count Olaf would turn and glare at us.

When we finally reached the top, I was begging for water, and Isadora was at thirst's heels at mercy.

A woman who was wearing a strange outfit put her arm around Count Olaf. She was probably his girlfriend.

Kind of how I felt about Violet Baudelaire.

She scowled at us. "This is Esme Squalor," Count Olaf announced, sweating like a camel in the Sahara jockey.

She took out a key and unlocked a door to a gigantic room. It had at least one hundred bedrooms, bathrooms, and kitchens.

Esme led us into a kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She poured everyone a tall glass of cold water, with an olive floating on top.

She called it an aqueous martini. Martinis are alcoholic, but aqueous martinis are just cold water with an olive. Aqueous martinis are in, she yakked.

She served Olaf first, who slurped up every last drop, and then popped the olive into his mouth. Next the bald man with a long nose, after that the two powder-faced women, the hook-handed man, and the fat person who looked like neither a man nor a woman.

She served everyone but me and Isadora.

"Please, may we have some?!" I begged, about to die of thirst. Isadora looked like she was about to pass out.

Esme smiled, took Count Olaf's glass, and held it above our heads. The chill of the cold water caused some water to stay on the bottom of the glass. A drop fell onto my head, and another onto Isadora's.

She went into a room and ordered the fat person whose gender was impossible to tell to follow her.

Esme came out first, and the creature followed her, carrying a metal cage.

The creature set the cage down on the floor. Then the bald man with the long nose, the hook-handed man, the two powder-faced women, and the creature pushed me and Isadora inside, flung the door shut, and locked it.

Then they carried us outside the penthouse apartment to the elevator.

Esme told us all to never tell anyone what she was about to do. She was going to use the elevator, even though it was out!

We went all the way to the bottom of the elevator, they set the cage down, and Esme started to talk.

"You stupid little brats!" she snickered. "My boyfriend and former acting teacher," she pointed at Olaf, "will disguise himself as Gunther, the innest auctioneer in the world! After the In Auction next week, he will sneak you out of town."

After she finished talking, they used the elevator to go back up to the penthouse apartment.

It was just me and Isadora. Alone. No one could rescue us. The Baudelaires were nowhere nearby, and the last place anyone would look for two thirds of a set of triplets whose fortune is an enormous collection of sapphires, previously students at Prufrock Preparatory School, is at the bottom of an elevator shaft.

We would never see the Baudelaires again.

Or so we thought.


	4. Villainous Conversation

So we were down at the bottom of the elevator shaft for over a week. Occasionally, Esme Squalor would bring us platters of salmon from some place called Café Salmonella.

She said it was in. She also told us her husband Jerome got them as a take-out. Since he never argued, even though he hated salmon.

I didn't get it. How could you have a husband if you had a boyfriend? And I couldn't believe she'd take advantage of someone like Jerome, who agreed to everything.

After dinner one night, actually, I couldn't tell exactly if it was night or not, and Isadora fell asleep, I heard talking.

Esme Squalor and Count Olaf were talking.

"Olaf, right before the In Auction, why don't I just kill the Baudelaire brats? They're nothing but trouble."

My mouth dropped open. No way. They couldn't. But I had no idea the Baudelaires were here. They could have rescued us.

"No, no, Esme," Count Olaf said quickly. "Why don't you just throw them to the bottom of the elevator shaft? I'll have a net down there; no way could they get hurt. I need at least one of them to get their fortune, and while they're down there, after the In Auction, I can make my decision."

"But what about those two Quagmire brats?" Esme asked.

"Don't worry," said Count Olaf. "I'll remove them from the elevator before you throw the Baudebrats down there. I plan to hide the Quagmires in the Fowl Fountain, and put the initials V.F.D. on a carton of Very Fancy Doilies. That should throw those Baudelaires off."

"But where would we go next?" Esme asked. "Well," said Count Olaf, "if anyone should discover me, I'll keep the car right outside the Veblen Hall where the In Auction is. Then we can get away. We'll head for the town of Village of Fowl Devotees, and since it has the initials V.F.D., I'm sure the Baudelaires will go there. Besides, Jacques Snicket will be there. I plan to murder him for revenge and frame the Baudelaires for murdering me, because, what other person can you think of that has one eyebrow and the V.F.D. eye tattoo on their ankle? And also, we're old enemies from the past."

"All right," Esme said. "The Baudelaires are in bed, and tomorrow is the In Auction. So let's go."

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Well, what do you think? Too short? Well, it's the best I can do for now. Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been real busy with school. Well, I know it's not the _best _chapter I've written, but keep the reviews coming!


	5. Kidnapped Volume Two

Isadora and I were extremely worried. We would never see the Baudelaires again. Or so we thought.

We were sitting still as statues as we watched three figures climb down a rope and to the bottom of the elevator. They walked toward us.

At first I thought it was Count Olaf and two of his troupe members coming to take us away.

As they came closer, I felt that it was the Baudelaires.

Isadora was obviously watching too.

"I'm dreaming," I said. "But how can you be dreaming if I'm having the same dream?"

After a long blab, we figured out it really was them.

"We need to go back up to the penthouse apartment and get some welding torches to melt the bars of the cage," Violet said, fingering a bar.

"Are you crazy?!" I exclaimed. "You're going to leave us here alone?" Isadora said.

"We have to," Violet said. "It won't take long. Just stay here, and we'll get you out. It'll just be five minutes."

So they climbed back up the rope and disappeared.

"Can you believe this?" I said to Isadora. "I'm sure they won't be gone too long," Isadora said.

"Do you know what could happen in five minutes?" I asked. Isadora shrugged.

I was right. Anything could happen in five minutes, and it did.

In less than five minutes, we saw Count Olaf, Esme Squalor, the bald man with a long nose, and that freaky fat guy that looks like neither a man nor a woman emerge from the elevator.

"Well, Quagmires," Olaf said, "it's time to go. Say bye-bye to your little friends. They're history, and so are you."

I screamed as hard as I could as the fat person that-what the heck, you know what I'm going to say-lifted us out of the cage. We were dragged back into the elevator and dropped inside a statue of a giant red fish.

We heard Count Olaf talking. "Remember the anagram code names for every troupe member," he told Esme Squalor.

"Bald Pinocchio over there is Flacutono; powder-faced woman #1 is Tocuna, powder-faced woman #2 is Flo, Hooky is Lucafont, and that fat creature is Aflocunto. Right after this Red Herring statue is bid highest by Lucafont, he'll carry it to the car with the two Quagmire kids inside it. Flo and Tocuna will stand guard at the main door, until someone recognizes us. Then run as fast as you can to the car. I'll have it running."

"But I was planning to wear my new pinstripe suit tomorrow," Esme whined. "It's not in to run in pinstripe suits."

Olaf groaned, and said, "Fine. But if you get caught walking, I'm not gonna drive back to get you."

Once the elevator must have reached the lobby, the fat person carried the statue out of the elevator.

The doorman, really Lucafont in disguise, nodded and walked out with us. "Hooky!" Esme said. "Remember to bid highest for the Red Herring statue, and then carry it out to the car before anyone discovers our disguises."

"Call him Lucafont!" Count Olaf said quickly. "Remember the codenames!" "Okay, okay!"

"But how can I carry the statue if I really have hooks instead of hands?" Lucafont asked.

"I think there are some fake hands in the V.F.D. disguise kit," Count Olaf said.

So the fat person finally set the statue down somewhere in the back of the car. Isadora and I rolled to one side. I banged my head on the inner-side of the statue.

As the car drove, we kept rolling inside the statue. After at least ten to twenty minutes, the car stopped, and the statue was taken out of the back.

We were once again carried a long time, and the statue settled on the stage, which I guessed.

Count Olaf said, "Well, I better get home. My Gunther disguise is there, and I'll go to bed. I'll have to get up early to get all the way back to this part of the city."

"Are you sure it's wise to leave the Quagmires here alone?" The bald man with a long nose asked, who hadn't spoke until now. "I think there might be a hatch somewhere inside the statue-"

"Shut up!" Olaf roared. "Don't say anything about that! The Quagmires can hear us!"

After a long pause, Esme Squalor gave a hideous laugh and said, "Those kids can't escape," she said. "There s no hatch, and even if there were, it's too small."

The villains departed Veblen Hall, leaving me and Isadora to our fate.

It must have been a handful of hours. We heard crowds of people shouting and talking.

A voice called, "Is the In Auction ready to begin, please?"

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Well, there's Chapter Five. I get school off 'cause it's Election Day '04, and my school's being used for voting!


	6. Silence Louder Than Ever

It was morning, and the In Auction had begun.

There wasn't much to it, really. Count Olaf (cough, cough) _Gunther _would call out the name of a lot, and describe it a bit, and people bid. Whoever bids highest gets it.

Eventually, Olaf had the hook-handed man carry us out and we were placed inside his long black automobile.

"Next stop, hinterlands," Olaf claimed as he drove.

"But darling," Esme Squalor said, "it's a long way up to the hinterlands, and there're no in restaurants. Let's just go to the retarded Village of Faded Dumbbells."

"But just because Jacques Snicket will be there, doesn't mean the Baudelaires will be there."

"You're just going to Caligari Carnival to get Madame Lulu to see the Baudelaire brats inside her crystal pyramid."

"It's a crystal _ball_, smart one," Count Olaf snapped.

"Can we go to a Pizza Palace if there's one around?" the bald man with a long nose asked.

"Yeah," said the hook-handed man. "It's been days since we've eaten. All we ever do is plot."

The two powder-faced women replied in agreement, and even the fat person who looks like neither a man nor a woman roared in hunger.

"Pizza isn't in, you fools!" Esme snarled. "Even if it was, we've had plenty of wine before the In Auction."

"But wine won't satisfy our hunger!" Flo cried.

"Café Salmonella, anywhere!" O. Lucafont exclaimed, waving his hooks in frustration.

Count Olaf came along a deserted road, hit the brakes, and turned around to glare at his henchmen.

"Shut up!" he roared. "In case you haven't noticed, you morons aren't regular people! One of you is bald and has a long nose! Another has hooks instead of hands! Two of you have white powder all over your faces, and one of you is so fat and hideous that a genderologist couldn't tell what you were!"

"What's a genderologist?" Tocuna asked.

Olaf ignored Tocuna and said, "Hooky, if I hear you complain again, you won't even have hooks! Same for everybody else!"

"But not all of us have hooks!" the bald man with a long nose said.

Olaf turned back around to drive, and the rest of the ride was more silent than a feather hitting the floor.

No one said anything, groaned, grunted, or moved a muscle.

**So, what'd ya think? Like it? Well, tell me! That's what that little purplish gray button down there that says Go is for! Review Review Review! **


	7. Madame VFD Eye okay, corny name

It was extremely uncomfortable inside the herring statue.

"Let us out!" I screamed.

"Go ahead and let the brats out," Esme Squalor snarled. "It's bad enough we have to go hundreds miles north to the stupid hinterlands."

Count Olaf eventually pulled up at Caligari Carnival, and the car swerved violently to the right, sending me and Isadora toppling to the side of the statue, making it rock.

We heard car doors open, and the statue was lifted out of the car. It was smashed, and the bald man with a long nose pulled me and Isadora out of the statue.

"Where are we?" Isadora asked.

Olaf kicked her. "Shut up orphan. You talk and die."

"Don't hit my sister!" I yelled.

Count Olaf glared at me.

"Lucafont, Flacutono, take this orphan and teach him to zip his pie hole unless his fists are as big as his fists are as big as his mouth."

The hook-handed man and the bald man grabbed me and started to beat me up, and making minor tears in my clothes.

The bald man giving me savage blows to the head and stomach, the hook-handed man whacking me as he could with his ever-so-sharp hooks.

Isadora screamed. Esme smiled evilly, the fat person that-what the heck, you know-laughing, with a sort of howling combination, the two powder-faced women giggling, Olaf feeling superior.

When I felt like I was going to pass out, Lucafont and Flacutono grabbed me and threw me to the ground at Count Olaf's feet.

"Pick him up," Olaf ordered.

Flacutono picked me up and let me wobble.

When we reached a tent that had an eye that matched the V.F.D. one, Count Olaf placed a filthy hand on the opening, and flung it open.

A woman wearing a turban and necklace with an eye and wearing some sort of contact lens and wearing a fortune-teller gown looked up at us.

"Please, my Olaf is of the arrival at my tent, please," she said, getting up and giving Olaf a hug. Esme scowled.

Her accent and fragmental use of the word please sounded like Count Olaf's Gunther disguise.

"May the guests be liking of snacks and wine, please?" the woman asked.

"Yes Lulu," Olaf said. "What do you have?"

"Please, broiled beef stew and steamed broccoli, please," Lulu replied.

A sheet of paper sticking out from under her table with a crystal ball had the V.F.D. eye on it, and out of my black and bruised eye, I could see five words: "the world is quiet here."

I gasped, before I could stop myself.

Lulu looked at me and Isadora.

"Please, are these the Quagmires, please?" she asked.

"Yes, Madame Lulu," Esme said, releasing her clenched jaw. "We plan to get their fortune and kill them later. We'll sneak them to an island where the police can't find us, and we'll slit their throats and drain the blood from their bodies. Then we'll-"

Olaf nudged Esme sharply in the ribs, giving me and Isadora a cold look.

"Please, that sounds gruesomely of the kind of death, please," Madame Lulu replied. "But Caligari Carnival has been having of the bad luck, please, and very few people are of the coming. You can be of the arriving at Madame Lulu's tent and eating of her food, please, but never a penny does Madame Lulu see."

"Don't worry, Lulu," Olaf said. "When we kill the Quagmires and get their sapphires, we can support Caligari Carnival very well, and many new attractions will be here."

"You were saying of the same for the Snicket fortune, please," Madame Lulu pointed out. "Why can't you be of the putting for a new play, like play you were of the using to get the Baudelaire fortune?"

"Well, I've been too busy, and time will tell," Count Olaf said quickly. "But money won't."

Lulu walked over to what looked like a stove, and brought over steaming bowls of beef stew and some assorted hot broccoli. For everybody but me and Isadora.

After a while, Madame Lulu brought over a bottle of wine and eight glasses. She poured everyone wine, including herself, and they all laughed heartily.

My stomach was churning, and I was very hot and worn out from the uncomfortable position in the statue.

I'm sure Isadora was, too.

It must have been hours before Olaf said, "Everyone else, leave the tent. Lulu, I need you to look into your crystal ball and reveal where the Baudelaires will be next."

I was surprised he didn't notice me and Isadora were still there.

"My goodness, Olaf!" Lulu exclaimed, as everyone quietly left the tent. "You are knowing that you may only be of the asking questions in the morning."

"I'm about to leave," Count Olaf said. "I really need to know."

Madame Lulu sighed, and shut the flap of the tent.

When Olaf wasn't looking, I thought I saw her hand hit something that looked like a switch.

She sat down and there began to be a magical hum, along with what looked like lightning.

"Close your eyes, my Olaf," she said.

Count Olaf shut his eyes.

The hum was very loud, and Olaf probably never thought twice that while his eyes were closed, she was flipping silently through some papers, and that the magical hum was drowning out every other sound.

"Open your eyes," Madame Lulu said softly.

"I am seeing of the Baudelaires, please," Lulu said. "I am seeing them in the town of V.F.D."

Olaf's eyes rapidly opened. "Oh my Lord, they already _know_ about _V.F.D._?"

"No, no," Madame Lulu said, a bit of frustration in her voice. "They're in the Village of Fowl Devotees, please, and they are of the packing to get ready to leave to go."

After a while, Olaf stood. "Thank you," he said. "Jacques Snicket will be there also. Not only will I steal the Baudelaire fortune, but I will also get rid of an old enemy at the same time."


	8. The End okay, not really

It was a long drive to the Village of Fowl Devotees. My bruises were very painful.

Isadora fidgeted frantically, while thinking up poems.

We were now inside some bird-shaped fountain called the Fowl Fountain.

And it was wet. Water was everywhere inside the fountain. I was surprised it didn't spring a leak.

My pants and shoes were drenched. Luckily, my commonplace book was safely tucked into the front pocket of my woolen sweater.

Isadora held her commonplace book as high above the water as she could.

It was hours, but inside the fountain we could still hear the villains talking.

"My Olaf, where is the police chief disguise?" Esme asked.

We heard a rustling noise, and someone thumping a helmet.

"Well Esme, how do I look?" We heard Count Olaf say to Esme.

"You look very in, darling," Esme replied.

"No I don't," the Count said. "I look _cool_. Read the badge, woman."

There was loud cackling, and clanging of wine bottles.

It was hours and hours until the car stopped, we were placed in the middle of the city (inside the fountain, of course), and the car drove off.

This was it. This was how we'd die. First our brother and parents. Now ourselves, and probably soon the Baudelaires.

Well journal, I guess this is the end. It's been fun having you as a companion.


	9. Chapter 9

At first I thought the villains were going to try and starve us to death. Until the bald dude named codenamed Flacutono, something like that, brought us two loaves of bread and a small pitcher of water about two hours to our arrival.

We ate our loaves, and drank our water. Two hours later, the car bumped, and went screeching to a halt. I heard Count Olaf jingle something and say, "Esme, here's the box of thumbtacks. Go kill Officer Terrence and here's the costume. Lucafont! Hand me that officer disguise."

There was the sound of a jingling hanger, and Esme said, "See you later, handsome. Where's Jacques Snicket supposed to be again?"

"Try the suburban area," Olaf said. "Good luck! Remember, the Village of Fowl Devotees is as against a man my description as much as you are. Do me proud!"

Then there was the sound of a door opening, and three seconds later, shutting.

We were unloaded and set somewhere. Then something on the exterior of the fountain was turned on, and even more water flowed in.

"Ugh! Sick!" I yelled. "Shut up, Quagmire!" Olaf roared, banging on the statue. Then water started flowing out of the fountain, which didn't make things much better.

"Make sure Fowl Fountain is never interiorly examined," I heard Olaf growl.

Then they just left. But then I heard them return, with some old woman. "All because we have a new officer in town, we get a new fountain!" the old woman cried.

"That's right and cool," I heard Olaf say in a hick, smooth voice. "I'm Auguste Dupin, by the way. Detective extraordinaire for hire, from the neighboring village of…Suburbia."

"Why, I've never heard of _Suburbia_," the woman said. "It's far away," Olaf said quickly, but smoothly. "But I thought you said it was neighboring," the woman said, confused.

"Ma'am, we live across the vast desert, for Pete's sakes. You can't expect us to be close by." "You made a misstatement," said the woman.

"It's not cool to argue over something like that," Olaf said coolly. "I'll be in Suburbia if you need me."

The woman thumped on the exterior of the fountain. "Hello? Anybody in there?" she chuckled. "Yes!" Isadora called. "We're stuck in here! Get us out!"

The woman laughed. "Me and my imagination," she said. "Ain't that funny, Petey? Hmm?" I wondered who she was talking about. But through the hole I could see she had a crow parked on her head.

"Psst, Izzy," I whispered. "You might wanna get this down in your commonplace book. The Village of Fowl Devotees, a.k.a. VFD for abb, have citizens with crows on their heads."

The woman kept talking to herself, "Petey, we never would've met if we of the Council of Elders didn't wear crows on our heads. You're almost the only company I've got."

"Wait," I whispered. "There's a Council of Elders, and _they're _the ones that wear crows on their heads. Only them, from apparent reason."

Izzy jotted that down, as did I. I sighed. "Any ideas on getting out of here?"

"We could scream for help," Isadora suggested. "Nah," I said. "Esme's disguise as Officer Luciana is probably out on patrol. Heck, for all we know, she could be yards away!"

"We could tip the fountain over," Isadora said. "We could climb out that way."

"This thing's pretty hollow," I said, tapping the interior surface. "We'd probably get hurt. Besides, if we were seen climbing out of this thing, we'd be suspected of trying to be snuck out of the area."

Izzy stared long out of the beak-shaped hole, and finally said, "Maybe the Baudelaires will find us. Again."

I had almost completely forgotten about the Baudelaires. "No way," I said. "There's no way they could be here, or even plan to come here."

"But this place has the initials V.F.D.," Izzy protested. "And they're so desperate-I'd come here to find two friends who could tell us the meaning of V.F.D."

"Face it," I said. "The Baudelaires have probably given up on us. After being taken away-the elevator at 667 Dark Avenue, they've probably forgotten all about us."

"No way," Isadora said. "Violet may have forgotten about you, but I know Klaus didn't forget about me."

"Don't count on it," I said. "If any of them remembered us, it's Violet. She has the best memory."

"Dunn, has the dirty tap water gone to your head?" Izzy's voice was beginning to rise. "Klaus has the best memory."

"No, Violet does," I argued. "Klaus," Izzy persisted.

"Wait a sec," I said. "Are we _fighting _over the Baudelaires?"

Izzy shrugged. "And we're leaving Sunny out of it, too," I said.

We both started to laugh. Of course, we would never forget Sunny. She'd helped us just as much as Violet and Klaus.

"Well," I said, "I wish Quigley were still here. But there's barely room for one person, let alone three!"

"Yeah," Isadora said. "But if he were here, he'd probably have some maps in his commonplace book-Wait a second."

"What?" I asked.

"I remember this town," Isadora said. "I can't remember if it was called Village of Fowl Devotees or whatever, but I'm positive it was a V.F.D. town once."

"What are you talking about?" I said. "It seems like the cold, dirty tap water's going to _your _head."

"No, no!" Isadora said. "Remember, when we were very young, that V.F.D. meeting?"

Then things started to make sense.

"Yes!" I said. "Mom and Dad were planning to recruit us that day. The citizens of the town decided to name the town Village of Fowl Devotees, so no one would get suspicious. Jacques Snicket was here, Kit Snicket was here, and so was their brother, what was his name again?"

I thought a moment. "It was always hard to remember," I said. "I think it was some fruit. Appley? Orangey?"

"Bananaey? Limey?" Isadora guessed.

Just when it hit me, I heard the sound of scraping. Hooks, more of the exact term.

"Shut up in there!" Lucafont yelled.

We were quiet, until we heard a man being dragged by, screaming.

"Let me go, Officer! I'm innocent! I'm not Count Olaf!"

The voice sounded very familiar.

"Jacques Snicket," Izzy whispered.

"Yes you are, you match his description!" Esme growled. "You have a uni-brow and a tattoo of an eye on your ankle!"

"It's designated for members of the job-community I work for to have this tattoo!"

"Cry me a river, Olaf!"

"I'm _not _Count Olaf!"

**After I update this, I'll update Quig. Promise! **


	10. Hope Springs Eternal

Days passed, and we were smuggled food, despite the lack of freshness.

"Izzy," I whispered through cracked lips, "will we ever escape?"

"Of course," she said. "The Baudelaires will come for us, like they did last time. We can count on them. Those couplets I sent with the carrier crows—the Baudelaires may not be volunteers, but I know they're smart enough to find them."

I was too weary and sore to extinguish her candle of hope, so I bluntly said, "Is this a volunteer village?"

Silence. "Well, Village of Fowl Devotees," she answered. I could tell she was saying the title in Sebald, a code we learned a long time ago.

Dr. Gustav Sebald worked with Dr. Montgomery. His wife, Sally Sebald, was also a volunteer. He invented the code, and named it after himself. From what I had learned, he was killed by the time J.S. had sent us the telegram that the Baudelaires had arrived at the home of M.

M was going to take them on the Prospero to a V.F.D. recruitment island. On the ticket, it said it would depart to Peru, but on the sides and top and bottom of the ticket, there were lyric clippings from the VFD theme song.

Something thudded the exterior of the Fowl Fountain statue. Then the beak creaked open, and something or someone fell inside and onto my lap.

"Quagmire!" said a familiar voice, staring up at me. It was the youngest Baudelaire herself.

"Sunny!" Isadora cried.

"Sunny?" called a voice. "Are you okay?" It was Violet Baudelaire.

"What's happening?" asked Klaus from a distance. I handed Sunny up, but I had to stand. Violet retrieved her.

"Duncan? Is that you?" she asked.

"Yeah!" I called up. "Are you getting us out of here or what?"

She laughed. "Of course. Grab my arm."

She plunged her arm inside, and I grabbed it. She pulled me up and out, and next came Isadora.

"We have to run," Klaus said hurriedly. "We broke out of jail, Violet. Where do we go?"

"Hector's!" she cried. "He said the self-sustaining hot-air mobile home is complete now—let's go!"

As we broke into a run, I remembered a man named Hector from the VFD recruitment island we took the Prospero to. He said he had planned to build a hot-air mobile home that could fly on its own, using thousands of balloons.

"I know this Hector," I said. Evidently, Isadora did, too.

But from a distance, we could see a group of people bent on stopping us from escaping. Led by Olaf in a detective disguise was a crowd of people armed with flaming firebrands, pursuing us and yelling out.


	11. Hector Hot Air

The self-sustaining hot-air mobile home hovered higher into the air.

Isadora and I grimly sat at a table in the kitchen and moped while Hector got some tortilla bread, fried some tomatoes, eggs, beef, spread sour cream on the taco bread, and some bell peppers.

When our lunch was ready we ate, and Hector said, "Well, long time no see, eh?"

I shrugged. "I guess," Isadora said feebly. "The meeting was almost a decade ago."

"I'll give you a tour of the SSHAMH," Hector said. He showed us our rooms, his room, the bathroom, the library, and the living room.

Then he said, "Well, there's one last room which I don't want either of you in unless you definitely have to."

There was a room just below the balloons. A large, powerful telescope was there, along with a wide window and several large, fat texts, books and notebooks crammed with V.F.D. information, a Xeroxed copy of the Snicket File, and photos and identification files on everyone who was ever in V.F.D., including every single J.S. possible in the entire organization.

"Why don't you allow us up here?" I asked. "We're already in V.F.D."

"I know," Hector said. "There are dangerous secrets in this room that could prove fatal. Did you know I'm the only one walking this Earth that has a copy of the Snicket File? The original and only other is in Heimlich Hospital under the file of Baudelaire. So never go up here. Now, I do have a laptop in my room, which you may use with my permission, as long as you make sure you don't use O.F.D. backlogged websites. But you may use email, AIM, anything else."

When he was done, he let us look through the telescope in the forbidden room.

"What do you see?" he said grimly.

"Crows," I said. "Lots of crows."

"Eagles are heading this way come False Spring," he said. "Lucius and Claudine Snicket are planning to unleash them to destroy us."

We gasped in horror. "So we're in danger?" I cried.

"We have weapons," he said. "And allies. I have a Volunteer Factual Dispatch system, and Captain Wallace Widdershins and his stepdaughter Fiona send messages to me. I also have contact with Kit Snicket and everyone at Hotel Denouement and the headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains."

He sighed deeply. "One last thing," he said, "that you two don't know about me. No one knows this about me, in fact. Not even J."

"Not even K?" I asked.

"Not even L," he answered.

"Not even M?" I tried.

"M's still in the severe rehabilitation ward of Heimlich Hospital, but he doesn't know, either," Hector said.

"Not even N?" Isadora guessed, still looking through the giant telescope.

"Not even O."

"Not even P?"

He shook his head and frowned out the window.

"Not even Q?" I said, just for laughs and the heck of it. No one laughed, but Isadora glared at me, and peered back through the telescope.

"Also, in case of emergency, like an eagle attack," he said, "we have an escape pod."

"Like a shuttle?" I asked.

He nodded. "Sort of. It's equipped with a parachute and can fit up to four people. Seatbelts, it's made of hard plastic and rubber, and safe. False Spring is only a week and a half away, so we'll have drills. And do either of you know D?"

Isadora and I looked each at other, and shook our heads. "David Dermott?" I guessed. David Dermott was a friend of our family. He was in V.F.D. and was at the headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains, training Volunteer Feline Detectives. He escaped to Hotel Denouement.

Hector shook his head. "Dewey Denouement. His family owned the Hotel Denouement. He has two brothers, Frank and Ernest Denouement. Frank is noble, Ernest is not, though it is strangely hard to tell them all apart, as they are triplets. Most think Dewey is not real, or he is dead, so everyone except V.F.D. members excluding the evil side doesn't know about him. They think he's legendary." He smiled. "Sound familiar?"

Isadora and I shared a smile, and the story sounded relatively familiar, except me, Isadora, and Quigley were fraternal triplets, we were all noble, but not many people paid much attention to Quigley, and he was dead. At least, that's what we thought until a while later.

We explored some more, and I used Hector's laptop. I had mail.


	12. You've Got Mail

That night, I seriously couldn't sleep. I mean, how can you if you're high in the air? I don't know how Hector and Isadora managed to fall asleep.

I was in the mood to surf the Web, so I crept out of bed with my flashlight and new commonplace book, in case I wanted to start recording useless new things. I probably never would have been able to return to V.F.D., so I figured what the heck?

I took Hector's laptop up to the forbidden room, where I knew it was safe, and went to the internet. I turned the sound off and went to my email.

Earlier I got a fresh email, but Hector said, "Let's put the laptop away for now, okay?" He shoved us off to dinner, and none more about the mail was said.

I clicked on the email, and nothing happened. I hit the refresh button on the toolbar and the page reloaded. I clicked the email link again. Still nothing happened.

I pounded the mouse so hard the email actually came up, but it said that it was expired.

Frustrated, I hit a strange combination of keys. V-e-r-y-F-u-n-n-y-D-e-r-m-o-t-t.

David Dermott also invented the V.F.D. computer with some of his colleagues. He made a code that was in that key order. It could refresh any expired page, and I realized this was a V.F.D. computer, not just some laptop.

The email popped up, clear as can be. It was addressed to me, but it said,

To Duncan—

The enclosed papers are V.F.D. pieces of evidence for a very important case. We realize you are hardly near any V.F.D. headquarters, but you are with H and your sister. But do not let anyone else see these. The first is a brief letter from Giuseppe Verdi to B, transferred quite a few years ago. We found it in the ruins of the Baudelaire Fire. The second is an entry from the journal of Lucius Snicket that we managed to steal very recently.

Dear Mr. Baudelaire,

I am so happy you found the time to also see my opera tonight, _La Forza del Destino_. I understand you, Bertrand Baudelaire, under some circumstance, despite what sort it was, had some business to attend to, and had to depart early. Some murdering is dreadful. You know our business is noble, and business murder is not part of it. Some things have to be done, and though you had work, I'm glad you attended my opera. To be able to make a volunteer's acquaintance, to be able to have time like you, Bertrand, and it's great. I noticed your clothing, however. That was perfectly, splendidly fine. I hope that perhaps one of these fine days we'll meet at the Veritable French Diner. Or, maybe even possibly at Mount Fraught. There's a nice building up near there. The Café Salmonella is not an option, as I'm allergic to dairy salmon, an awful dish they serve. Hotel Denouement is spectacular, but I've only heard so. A friend of mine suggested to don't go alone, as it's fun with friends or family. To go is another matter, as it is far. More like at home, except with room service and classic spas, pools, sunbathing rooftop salons, banquet rooms, and etc. is their motto. I hope we meet someday.

Yours truly,

Giuseppe Verdi.

Dear journal, February 16, 1991

Today was a very important day. The schism was almost twenty years ago, and my accomplice, Olaf Snicket, burnt down the Baudelaire Mansion. I never knew the hairy trip had it in him. One died, as did others at the meeting. But I do believe one survived and escaped to the Fountain of Victorious Finance. And they sent their children away to Briny Beach where I do believe that fat, coughing banker, Arthur Poe, head of Orphan Affairs at Mulctuary Money Management, drove them to his home where he decided their fate: send them to Olaf's house. After all, he is their distant relative, but closest relative geographically. It is almost midnight, but I am truly excited. I think a bottle of wine, finger puppets and practicing the use of poison darts would be appropriate to celebrate. Also, I hope that those blasted Baudelaire kids are murdered soon. When will that hairy fool get it over with?

I was fiercely angry. This was very important evidence. The Sebald in Giuseppe Verdi's letter to Mr. Baudelaire was something important. I had to print out the email. But Hector would hear the noise, and be awoken. V.F.D. printers were loud.

I had no choice but to write it all down in my commonplace notebook. It took a while, but I did. Then the door creaked open.

I grabbed the laptop and dashed under the table I was at. Footsteps clopped around. They stopped at the table. They were large brown boots. Hector's.

Then Hector leaned down and peered into my face.

I couldn't believe it. Hector was…Isadora!

"Izzy! What the heck…you scared the crap out of me!" I almost screamed.

"Hey, that's what you get for entering the forbidden room," she hissed. "What's that on your email?"

"Nothing." I closed the laptop. She grabbed at my commonplace book.

"You wrote it down!"

"I wrote what down?" I asked innocently, keeping my red notebook out of her reach.

She grabbed one ring and pried it from my hand. Part of the ring came out and scratched my palm. I yelped and jerked my hand back, reaching for my commonplace book with my other hand.

She read the first two pages. She gasped at me. "What is this?" she asked.

"Evidence," I said. "They're both in the Baudelaire case. The first implies that Giuseppe Verdi was a volunteer, and he knew that Olaf planned to originally burn the Baudelaire Home down one night, but Bertrand and probably his wife stayed at Valorous Farms Dairy, and someone went to get the kids unless they were in peril. And the other tells that Olaf burnt the Baudelaire Mansion down, and he's pretty sure one of the parents survived."

Isadora's hand went to her mouth, and she said, "We have to tell Hector."

"I can't," I said. "The volunteer told me not to let anyone know."

"Why would they trust you?" Isadora asked. "No offense."

I shrugged. "They just somehow know me."

"Well, turn the laptop back on," Isadora urged. "We need to know who sent you the email, and why they trust you with that information."

I went back to my email website and clicked on the link. I refreshed the message and I scrolled down to the return email address. There was nothing except a QQ.

"Quigley," Isadora breathed.


	13. QQ Who?

**I'm sorry it took so long, but I finally updated. Here it is peeps. And please review ****Frodo's Diary****, I'm begging you. In fact, if I don't get at least two reviews for Frodo's Diary, you can forget about an update for this story until the end of June or early July. I have plenty of things going on in June that I'll have to see to, like church camp and a mission trip and Kentucky Kingdom. **

"Wait a minute," I said. "It might _not _be Quigley."

"How do you know?" Isadora glowered.

"First of all, he'd tell us himself," I said, "and second, did it ever occur to you that we have another cousin?"

Quisling Quagmire was the only bad egg in the Quagmire basket. Even when we were kids, he'd stomp on Isadora's chalk and turn it to powder. Then he'd mix it in water and tell me it was Kool-Aid, and I drank it. Then I had to go to the Emergency Room.

Another time, he spat in my lemonade when I wasn't looking, and put some kind of diarrheic in my meatloaf. I never ate meatloaf again.

And to think meatloaf was ever my favorite food. I thought my mom didn't cook it right, but boy, was I wrong!

"And also, it explains why he wouldn't have revealed himself," I said. "He's always up to no good, and confusing us with Quigley. He even looks a lot like us."

I'd rather eat dog crap than trust Quisling. Just look up his name. No wait, let me correct myself: I'd rather eat dog crap _again_ than trust Quisling.

"Look," Isadora said. "Quisling may not have been the best family member, but even if this is him, we have to trust him. We haven't seen him in years; we don't know if he hasn't turned his life around."

"I do not trust him," I said. "One time, he made me eat rust. And there's 'rust' in 'trust', if you hadn't noticed."

Instead of blabbing some more, I started a reply email. "Quigley, if this is you, send us the address of your location pronto," I said aloud. "And also tell us who you're with. Quisling, if this is you, then you can just go to…"

"Duncan!" Isadora scolded. "Don't type that!"

"Why not?" I said. "I'm oldest. You can't tell me what to do."

"You better not type that or I'll rip your notebook apart!"

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

"Next time we see the Baudelaires, I'll tell him that you dreamed of doing him."

"Okay, okay!" She put the notebook down. I sent the email.

In literally less than a minute, I received an email. It was the person.

"Dear Duncan," the person said. "It's me. The information is accurate, and I've made arrangements for you to meet me on the Italian island of Sardinia. I think we all need to talk, and relax, as you two have been through much more than I have, even though floating down a stream just two hours after making out with a beautiful girl on a mountain isn't as satisfying as described in a book I read. See you there.

"P.S.: Next time you land the SSHAMH, you'll be in Sardinia.

"P.P.S.: I'm not going to hell because you say so."


	14. Reunited and The Promise Ring

**Wow. I'm posting two chapters in the same day! Aren't I feeling weird? It's a summer thing. In other words, I'm so excited for summer; I have more time for other things. And, good news. Starting June 18 through June 23, which is a Sunday through Friday, because Saturday I leave for a week-long mission trip, is New Chappie Week. I post new chapters for random stories of mine. For instance, one day I might want to update Book the Fifth and a Half, and the next I might do Duncan's Drama. It varies, depending on my mood. Anyway, onto the story! Forget what I said about not updating unless someone reviewed Frodo's Diary, but please review it!**

We landed the SSHAMH two days, and said goodbye to Hector. We met Quisling at a beach in Sardinia. And my heart's been throbbing like ever.

I mean, there's a bunch of hot Italian chicks around here, but I really miss Violet. So it makes it ten times more painful watching Quisling making out with an Italian girl.

Isadora spent most of her time swimming and building sand castles. Quisling mostly just ate, swam, and made out. I spent most of my time moping and talking to random strangers.

I lay in a beach chair that was stretchy, kind of like a bed. All there was to do was drink lemonade with green olives on top and watch Quisling make out with hot Italian girls.

"There's nothing to do," I complained.

The Italian girl stopped kissing long enough to look up at me. "I'll set you up with someone," Quisling offered.

"That doesn't help," I said dryly.

He shrugged and went back to the girl. "Do those long boat things with personal rowers cost money?" I asked the Italian girl.

"Yes," she said.

"I don't have any money," I said. "And I was hoping it might take my mind off Violet."

Quisling dug out a handful of lira and tossed them at me. They were clipped together.

"You know what really might help me?" I said. "If you told me how you got over your old girlfriend, Quisling."

The Italian girl got off him. "What?" she said. "You had an old girlfriend, Quisling?"

"No," he said. "He's lying. Let's French some more."

"I'm kind of hungry," the Italian girl said. "I don't feel like putting out, as you call it. I'll be back later."

"Great job, Duncan," Quisling said. "I don't know how I got over my old girlfriend. I guess I just stopped thinking about her. Now go take a boat ride."

It was really hot on a Sardinian beach when you were wearing casual clothes and not a swimsuit. I picked up the bundle and headed for a boat.

I paid the rower and got inside. He rowed swiftly, and I tried to clear my mind of ever loving Violet. But nothing worked.

Then I noticed a hot brunette in a green swimsuit in a nearby boat. "Whoa," I said to myself. "She's on fire."

But looking at her didn't really help. She even kind of looked like Violet. I wonder if the Baudelaires have Italian roots.

Then I heard a voice call out, "Duncan?"

I turned. It was the girl in the boat. It _was _Violet!

I jumped out of the boat and swam to her boat. The water was deep as the sea. I gasped for air and tried grabbing at her boat. But I kept slipping back. Then she gave me a hand and I pulled myself up next to her.

For the longest time we just stared at each other. Her pale blue eyes begged me to break the silence. It was now or never. I had to say the words I'd been dying to say since I met her.

"Violet, I love you," I said finally.

Her lips curled into a smile. Instead of answering, she kissed me hard on the lips. Her hands moved up to my head for leverage and held my head, keeping us steady.

Then we finally stopped, and she moved her head down to my chest, breathing quickly. I let my neck rest on her head the rest of the ride.

When we got out of the boat, we were holding hands, and she led me to Sunny and Klaus. We all hugged and shared stories.

The Baudelaires had traveled here in a van after escaping a boat where Olaf threatened their lives. But he escaped somewhere, somehow.

After lunch, we tracked down Quisling and Isadora and it was a long reuniting experience. Klaus and Isadora kissed right there on the spot.

That night, Violet and I slept in the van they came in. But neither of us could sleep.

"Violet," I said, "I want you to have something." I pulled out something shiny and purple with a bright blue gem on it. It was a promise ring I had bought in a store upon arrival in Sardinia.

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"It's a promise ring," I said. "Always wear it, except for when you shower, of course, because I want you to have my heart forever."

She kissed me and put it on. Then she stroked my cheek and said, "I love you too." Then we kissed and, well, one thing led to another…

**Note: This chapter was based on an episode of That '70s Show, probably my favorite all-around show on TV.**


	15. The Somewhat Better Chapter

**Look you guys, I'm sorry those chapters weren't as good as even I expected. But I haven't been to FFN in such a long time; I've practically lost touch with my own stories. I'll start putting more action in, starting this chapter.**

I was finally sick of the beach. Or so I thought. One day, a tourist, or so it seemed, went walking around the beach.

I grabbed Violet's arm. "Something about that tourist looks familiar," I said.

She shrugged. "Well, go take a closer look at him."

I followed the guy all the way up to the Fish Fry shack. And boy, did I get a surprise!

He was wearing black flip-flops, and I noticed something particularly familiar about his ankle. There was the tattoo of an eye on it.

Suddenly, I thought I would be sick and ran as far from the shack as possible. On the way, I smashed into someone. We both toppled to the ground in opposite directions.

It was Quisling. "Quisling! Come on! We have to go! Count Olaf is here!" I said.

Quisling looked confused. "Quisling?"

"Quisling is your name, moron," I barked. "Come on. We have to get Isadora and the Baudelaires, and signal Hector, and get the SSHAMH to land, and–"

"The Baudelaires?" he asked. "They're alive?"

That worried me. "Yes," I said. "At least, I hope so. Come on."

"Duncan, don't you know who I am?" Quisling said.

"Yes, Quisling Quagmire, but you'll be Dead Quagmire if you don't hurry!" I yelled, grabbing his arm.

He sighed. "I'm not Quisling, Duncan," he said. "I'm Quigley."

That made me sick to my stomach. Quigley was alive, and pretending to be Quisling? He deserved to be punched. But I was too sick for any kind of strength.

I vomited into a trash can, and then Olaf stepped out of the shack. He had a gun, and a chubby guy with a weird-shaped back went out after him. Following him were a normal-looking guy except for the fact that he had wrinkles on his face, and a woman who kept doing cartwheels.

Then he spotted us. "Get them!" he yelled.

The chubby man, the other man, and the woman started chasing us. We ran as well.

"Quigley," I shouted to him as we ran, "why were you pretending to be Quisling?"

"I wasn't," he said. "But Quisling is still alive?"

"Yeah. He and Isadora are on the other side of the beach. We have to go get them, along with the Baudelaires."

Then I heard gunfire behind us. I was still wearing normal clothes, almost like the kind I would wear to Prufrock. But the dress shoes held me back. I was a track runner at my old school, not Prufrock.

Quigley outran me, because he was barefoot, and he's also a pretty good runner.

Then I heard another gun blast, and something darted into the back of my shoe. I fell to my knees, shouting in pain. My foot felt like it had been torn off. I'd been shot in the foot.

The three freakish people caught up and grabbed me. The blood leaking from my foot drained most of my strength. I tried putting up a good fight, but it was useless. The wrinkled-face guy had equally strong hands, and wouldn't let go for any reason.

They dragged me back to Olaf. From a distance, I could see the Baudelaires' van driving off. Lousy dipsticks. They could have cared less whether I died or not. It wasn't fair. Now Quigley and the rest of them were going to be safe and I wasn't. Heck, I was practically the sacrifice. I was always being put on the spot for my siblings.

"So, this is the one who thought he could escape, huh?" Olaf said as we approached him. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You're filthy and smell bad and you have the ugliest unibrow I've ever seen," I said.

He backhanded me across the face. I could taste blood in my mouth. "Come. Let's handle this one once and for all. We can track down the Baudelaires and other kids later."

They dragged me into a beachside house. It wasn't bad-looking.

Count Olaf took a knife. "Would you rather be shot dead, or stabbed dead?" he offered.

My eyes grew wide with fear. I was supposed to be the brave one. But I'd failed V.F.D. Now I was going to pay for my noble actions, just like my parents.

"If you don't decide soon, I'll decide for you," Olaf said. "I choose, knife."

He took the knife and let the blade rest in a bucket of cold water for two minutes. Then he took it out and walked back over to me.

I was still being held down by the three freaks. Olaf came closer and closer, waving the knife in his hand. Then he lowered it towards me, and I braved myself to face what was about to come.


	16. Quisling The Quirky Gun

**I'll try to update more often, but I hardly have time. You guys understand. For now, here's another chapter just to keep this story propelling.**

Right before the tip of the blade touched me, the door swung open. In walked Quisling, grinning evilly.

"Quisling you fat loser! You sold us out, you traitor!" I yelled at him.

"Hey, don't yell at him," Count Olaf smirked. "He's the only good egg in your family."

The knife at my neck was the only thing that kept me from jumping up and murdering Quisling with my bare hands.

"You should have known not to trust me, Duncan," Quisling laughed. "Lucky for the others, they got away."

"I could just kill you right now," I growled.

Quisling pulled out a handgun, cocked and aimed at my head. "I wouldn't try it, if I were you," he threatened. "I was going to use it on you and Isadora earlier, but I had to run into town and buy some more shells."

I would either be shot dead by my own cousin, or sliced up by an old enemy. What a day this was becoming. Never trust someone named Quisling, mind you.

"What do we do now, boss?" Colette asked. "I'm starving. I could use some pasta."

"If you're that much of a contorting loser, we'll break now," Olaf snarled. He put the knife down on the floor and he, Kevin, Hugo and Colette left.

On the way out the door, he added, "If he tries anything, Quisling, kill him." Quisling grinned at me.

He sneered at me, "Hungry?"

"Yeah, actually I am," I said.

"Too bad," he said. "There's no food here."

I was so mad I could spit. "You know what, we do have some food here," he cackled. "Swallow that knife."

He walked closer to me, still aiming the gun at my head. "Eat it!" he ordered.

Then I jumped up and tackled him. We fell to the floor. He fired away, but missed me. He put three bullet holes in the ceiling. He jumped up and dragged me up.

I punched at him. He grabbed my arm and pushed down, then head-butted me in the nose. Blood streaked down my face. I kicked him in the shin and he yelped.

I tried using my other hand to squeeze his throat, but he dodged and punched me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain and he whacked me on the back.

I fell on my stomach, grimacing. He prepared to fire at me. Then I jumped out of the way and he fired. It missed me by an inch. Then I tried grabbing at the gun. It bulleted the ceiling again. After that, I pushed the gun as far toward him as possible, then I pushed his index finger down on the trigger.

He fired straight into his chest. Blood covered his chest and stomach and neck. He fell lifeless to the ground.

I cocked the gun and picked up the knife and ran as far from the beach house as I could.


	17. Sebald On A Plane

**Sorry for the delay of this chapter. Schoolwork sucks, you guys know what I'm saying.**

I had no time to lose. I made my way off the beach ran at least two nonstop miles. Then I dropped to my knees for breath and noticed a sign: Sicilian Airlines—1 Mile.

It was perfect. The last thing I needed was to stay here. Then I realized I couldn't run anymore, since my legs were so sore.

So I stood by the side of the road and stuck out my thumb. One car fleeting by came to a screeching halt alongside the curb. A man with slick black hair and a thin, dual mustache stepped out.

"Are you crazy? This is twelve o' clock! Time for lunch, stupid American!" the man yelled.

"Calm down, mister!" I said, "I just need a ride to the airport."

"I need a ride to my uncle's house for lunch without any interruptions, but fine, I'll take you since it's just one mile."

I got in the passenger seat. The guy started driving. Then I noticed something.

There was a VFD brochure sticking out of the glove compartment. "Oh my God," I blurted.

The guy looked at me. Then he yanked the brochure away and stuffed it under his seat. "You didn't see that," he said frantically.

"It's okay, I'm a member," I said, trying to calm him so I could get information from him.

"Of what?" he said.

"VFD!" I said.

"What's Vee-effa-dee?" he said.

Jeez, did he think I was born yesterday? Oh well, if he was playing the stupid card I might as well give it up.

We finally arrived at the airport. I got out and thanked him, then ran inside.

I went up to some hot Italian chick that was a clerk, and said, "I need a ticket for the next flight to America."

She smiled. "How old are you?"

Oh crap. If I said I was a teenager, I'd probably have to go through the crap with my parents and stuff. So I said, "Eighteen."

"So you're an adult. Adult tickets are 3,160 lira."

"Uh, I don't have lira." Or any kind of money, for that matter.

"I guess I should have figured you were American," she said. "You don't look Italian. No offense," she added quickly.

"None taken," I answered. "So how much?"

"That depends on the class. There's economy, business, and of course, first-class. Economy is $348 in American dollars."

"Oh." It hit me like a sack of bricks. "I don't really have money."

The clerk frowned. "No money?"

I shook my head. Then she motioned for me to lean in. "I'm in VFD and I know you are too, so I'll help you out," she said.

Sweet Christ. Was VFD going international?

"If you can give me the password for VFD, I'll give you a ticket for business class," she said.

"The world is quiet here," I said.

She smiled and typed some things on the computer. Then she handed me a ticket for business class.

"Fly again, Mister Aquemirg," she said, waving to me. That's smart, using the VFD Airlines code. To protect the identities of agents, they gave an alternate last name where the third letter becomes the first, and the rest of the letters are jumbled into an anagram.

I was soon boarded on the plane. Business class was awesome! I got a seat that could go all the way back, along with a desk and free food.

Then someone crashed it all.

A masked man and two others with guns held everyone up, and one of them spoke in Iraqi. The other translated, "This aeroplane is going down into the Atlantic!"

Great. Just when things get better, who should crash the party but terrorists?

Then I had a plan. I got the attention of the translator and said, "Can you get that flight attendant to bring me some Sprite?"

The man looked at me funny, and then he and the rest of the men left for a minute.

I had a feeling about this plane. If that clerk was from VFD, then this had to be a branch of VFD Airlines, disguised with another name.

A flight attendant made her way over to me, with a glass of ice-crackling Sprite in one hand and a small bag of peanuts in the other.

"Ring! Hurry up! I'd ring a bell if I had it!" I said. The attendant smiled and winked at me. She got it!

"I am so thirsty. Your airline is slow! Give me that! Want to give me a buzzer so it's just only the top half of you that hurries up? Jeez! By name you people should know us, especially in business class! Of course, you have to be naturally slow. Are you the flight attendant or what? I bet even that old captain could walk faster than you! Just stop being slow and I bet it's impossible for you to move just fast, even a little faster would be good! Ring! Hand me a bell, will you?"

She winked again and gave me the peanuts and Sprite, then left, but had a stony expression as she left so the terrorists wouldn't be suspicious.

The translator translated what I told the attendant to the chief, and they both laughed and headed for the cockpit up front.

The attendant came up to me pronto. "That was really smart, kid," she said. "The captain's name is Lemony Snicket."

My eyes widened in terror. "No," I said. "It can't be."

She nodded. "Let me know if you need anything else."

"Wait," I said. "Is it okay if I use my PDA on here?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

I checked my email. There was a new message. It was from L.S. It had six words: "Get out. The count is here!"


	18. The Terrorist

**I know I left some things unexplained in the last chapter, but you'll get it by the end of this one. As this story nears its end, I'm going to have to start making some things more mysterious, as to why Duncan is so unsure of L.S. And let me tell you that this story will end before The End is published. But I may do an epilogue after I've read The End.**

Things were getting out of control. I emailed Quigley on his PDA. (**A**/**N: The Quagmires were all given PDA's which are rarely acknowledged but in this story, they were given them on their birthdays**.)

Then the translator and the two terrorists returned. The translator, who was masked, grabbed my arm and said, "Come with me."

He told the two other terrorists to stay. He dragged me into the bathroom and locked the door. "Listen to me, Quagmire," he hissed, "I know you're in VFD."

Wait, what?

"Don't give me that look!" he snarled. "Did you think any of this has to do with actual terrorism? This is an act of the evil faction of VFD, stupid!"

I still didn't get it. "So you're really just after me?" I asked.

"Good Lord, you can speak Sebald to a flight attendant but you can't tell when someone's onto you?" the translator cried.

"I'm only thirteen," I said, "and I've been faced with a lot more than boys my age should ever have to face in their life."

"Here's what we want," the translator said, ignoring my remark. "You do know who Count Olaf is, right?"

I nodded.

"I'd tell you something, but…aw, what the heck?" he said. "You'll die in a little while anyway. Count Olaf is actually not the chief of the evil faction of VFD."

"I kind of knew that," I said.

"Shut up and listen! There is someone evil who you know, who's on the bad side of VFD," the translator said.

"Is he an adult or child?" I asked. I didn't even know if that question was necessary.

"Let me put it this way," the man said. "This person is not the chief of the evil faction of VFD, but before your life is over, you will have to face him."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"You know who I am," the man said. He removed his ski mask.

It was Hector.

"Hector! You're evil!" I screamed.

"Shut up!" he yelled. "I tried to kill you and that stupid sister of yours who talks in her sleep on the SSHAMH, but I kept getting thwarted because you'd wake up and I'd have to turn off the light and dive behind the door."

Then I noticed his gun pointed at me. It seemed like it was over. Then I had an idea. "Your gun's not loaded, you know," I said.

"What?" he said. "Yeah it is." He cocked it, and the barrel turned. He didn't know how to operate guns. All he knew was how to fire. But he couldn't tell if a gun was loaded or not. So I took a pretty big gamble on that one.

Then I used some karate knows on him. I made a high kick at his wrist. The gun went flying out of his hand and skittered across the floor. He dived for it. I stopped him and kicked him in the stomach and he fell backwards. I grabbed the gun, cocked the barrel to an actual bullet and kicked him.

"Stand," I ordered. He didn't move.

I pointed the gun at him. "Up!"

He jumped to his feet. "Arms up," I said.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked.

"Are you retarded? You were about to shoot me!" I said. "Why shouldn't I kill you, anyway?"

"I fed you, I gave you a home…need I go on?" Hector asked.

"Yeah, you tried killing us more than once. How do you like that?" I punched him square in the face. His knees buckled and I swung an entire symphony of punches, sending him on his stomach. He looked up at me, ready to attack. His face was covered in blood.

He dove at me. I jumped out of the way and grabbed him by the back of his belt. Then I shoved him against a wall and jumped back, ready to shoot.

"Prepare to eat lead," I snarled.

"The expression is, 'prepare to eat crow', and don't shoot!" he cried. "Don't!"

"Why not?" I yelled. "You were helping Olaf all this time, weren't you? I bet you helped him kidnap me from Prufrock, and you were probably his inside man since all this crap started. Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you! Just one!"

"I know what happened to your parents," he said.


End file.
